


Guilt

by PuppyWillGraham



Series: A Series of Emotions [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hospital Visit, I'm Sorry, M/M, post-mizumono, short fic, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1681892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppyWillGraham/pseuds/PuppyWillGraham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew Brown visits Will Graham in the hospital after the latter is gutted by Dr. Hannibal Lecter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt

" ** _Guilt_** _is a cognitive or an emotional experience that occurs when a person realizes or believes—accurately or not—that he or she has compromised his or her own standards of conduct or has violated a moral standard, and bears significant responsibility for that violation. It is closely related to the concept of remorse._"

_~x~_

You stand in the doorway to the hospital room, and you can already feel your lower lip tremble slightly at the thought of what picture would lay beyond the door, in the hospital bed that was to your right as you walk into the room. You try to breathe, try to inhale and exhale, but on the exhale you stare at the bed, and the man that lays in the bed, and you find you hold your breath, unable to take in breath or let it go.

The man on the bed is Will Graham. He looks so fragile, and broken, and every bit the shattered tea cup that the Chesapeake Ripper had often personified him as. He's currently asleep, or unconscious; you can't be sure, because the tears are already starting to blur your vision, and blur the picture before you beyond all recognition, and you find it hurts. It hurts so much to look at him.

The worst of the older man's wounds are covered, bandaged up, but it's nothing to lessen the effect the picture has on you. You blink away the tears, stand closer, to the foot of the bed, hands gripping tightly onto the rails of it, knuckles white as you stare openly; there's not much else you can do. There's not much you can say.

Something pangs hard against your chest, and you realize it's your heart -- _oh, you thought it had shattered, but no, it still works, it still works fine, and it hurts to know that_ \-- beating faster; you almost forgot to breathe, and your lungs are burning for much needed air. But it hurts.

The Chesapeake Ripper did this to Will Graham. Dr. Hannibal Lecter did this to your friend.

You dwell on that, and it's as repetitive a tone as the now faster beating of your heart. You find you can't stand to look at Will. Not right now. It hurts. It hurts so much. It hurts worse than anything. You feel guilty.

_"I want you to kill Hannibal Lecter."_

You failed. You failed by not killing Hannibal Lecter. You failed by talking too much, waiting too long, getting shot by Jack Crawford. You _failed_.

If you'd have killed Hannibal, this never would've happened. You wouldn't be in such a sticky situation yourself. Only allowed a few minutes to see Will Graham, --  _"Come, Mr. Brown."_ \-- and Dr. Chilton knows exactly how to hurt you in the worst possible way now; just show you your failings. Before being led back to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane; this time as an inmate, not an orderly.

The pain doesn't lessen when you're back in your cell, in fact, it's worse. It hurts so much. It hurts worse than anything. You find half of you wants to end it all, end yourself, but Will Graham was still alive. You hold onto that thought. He's still alive. You repeat it to yourself over and over again. Like it's a mantra, and to you, that's exactly what it is. But the guilt is still there, and it seems to override any other emotion you have.

You're guilt-ridden, -- _but he's still alive!_ \-- you're guilt-ridden, and you can't seem to let it go.

You try to sleep, even though it ends up in nightmares. You just want to sleep. Anything to be away from the feelings of guilt and failure, even if it's for a couple of hours. But even then, even in your dreams and your nightmares, failure and guilt and pain and the tears all interlace like a rope that you'd probably like to hang around your neck like a noose. Anything to make this pain less.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the finale completely fucked me up. this was borne of my tears.


End file.
